


i will never let you fall

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:44:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6388858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p> “Some steps need to be taken alone. It's the only way to really figure out where you need to go and who you need to be.”<br/></p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	i will never let you fall

**Author's Note:**

> alternate ending to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6277246/chapters/14383678%22).  
> i honestly can't remember what title i gave it before?  
> summary quote from mandy hale.

"Sehun, call for you in Line 3." 

"Got it," is his instinctive answer, barely looking away from his computer screen. "Thank you."

He sighs wearily, hands leaving the keyboard for the first time that day to wander over to the phone in the farthest corner of his desk. He hesitates for a second. Fingers hovering. 

There's a very familiar feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach, rattling against his chest, making the blood rush around his brain. 

He hasn't quite indentified what it is, what it has been all this time - if it was the same dread and nervousness he'd felt back in high school every time the phone rang, or if it was something else. If it was hope. 

Hope each time the phone rang that maybe it would be Jongin. 

Jongin greeting him with  _ " - Sehun there? Mr. Oh Sehun? Is he there?" _

But it's been two years.

Two years of hope, and it had never been him. 

Sehun clicks the button resignedly.  

"Hello?"

"Ah! Sehunnie?"

The smile, Sehun is still occasionally surprised to note, comes with ease. With more ease than he'd ever had all those years ago. "Tao," he admonishes softly, gently. "Stop calling me that."

"I'm older than you." Zitao's voice sounds flighty over the phone, loud even with the telltale sounds of cars honking and people rushing in the background. "That's got to count for something."

Sehun rolls his eyes, leaning back to stretch. He fights off a yawn. "Any special reasons you called?"

He could see Zitao rolling his eyes right back. "Can't I call you just to say hi?"

"I'm at work, Tao."

"So?" Zitao sounds almost affronted. "You're working  _ part-time  _ at a greeting card company and you can't even spare your roommate a few minutes?"

"Can't," Sehun mutters, giving his surroundings a lazy 360. The greeting card company staff can be sorted into three groups - salary men in line in front of the boss' office, part-time students slumped over their desks blinking away the temptation of sleep, the category in which Sehun thinks he himself belongs to, and middle aged newbies drumming their fingers and feet passionately to a non-existent song simply because they're high off caffeine. It's not exactly a dream job, but it's manageable considering it saves him from living off instant noodles. "It's much more exciting here."

Zitao just snorts. 

Sometimes, Sehun wonders if Tao knows a lot more than he lets on. If he could tell the irony of it all. Oh Sehun, working extra hours trying to come up with cards that contained summaries of feelings most people would most likely never truly be able to voice out, and yet he himself had never been good with words. 

_ If only he had been, would he have had more closure with what happened with Jongin? _

Sehun clutches the phone a bit too tight. As a reminder to himself that this is reality. This is real life. This is a life where Jongin had never been his roommate.

"It's today, isn't it?" Zitao's voice had gone softer. As if he could almost feel Sehun's hand holding on the phone like it's his lifeline. "His birthday?"

The calendar reads January 14th. Sehun knows that. He'd spent all day trying not to look at it. He swallows, moves the phone to his other ear with some difficulty. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Are you mocking me?"

He could almost see Zitao blowing exasperatedly out his mouth. "When did I ever mock you about this?" His tone's patronizing. Condescending. "Two years I've known you, Sehun, and I've never said a single bad thing about - about him. I believe you, you know."

"Yeah, well," Sehun sighs, "We both know I've never been much of a believer in myself." 

"But you believed in me," Zitao says. It's a whisper over the line now. It's quiet in the background. He must have gone inside somewhere. "I appreciate that. I believe you. I believe in you, too. I know I haven't done much in return - "

"Oh, Tao, shut up," Sehun cuts in, without infliction. He smiles a little. He'd always been more vocal about his feelings - sometimes Sehun wishes he'd been like that. 

With Jongin.

He twirls the cord between his fingers. "I only pushed you to the right direction. The rest was all you. Top of your class, decent part-time job, and got yourself a boyfriend that eerily resembles a puppy. You've done well, kid. "

"I'm older than you," Zitao retorts. 

"Kid," Sehun shoots back. 

Zitao might have growled. "I hate you."

Sehun laughs a little. "No, you don't."

"You're right. I don't." Zitao releases a few chuckles of his own. It sounds airy. Free. "Which is why I'm going to have to force you to get coffee with me later tonight."

Sehun flicks imaginary dust off his lap. "Aren't you going out with Baekhyun somewhere?"

"Yeah, I'm at his apartment building right now." As if to confirm, Zitao holds a set of keys by the phone, jingling it directly into Sehun's ear. "But he has work around two, so we can meet up after then. You sound like you need the caffeine."

He does. Sehun sighs. 

He looks out the window. It's raining. Or maybe snowing. But he could hear the steady pitty-patter drumming on the sill. Just like that day.

He allows himself a look at the calendar.

"Okay," he murmurs. "Around seven?"

Zitao's still shaking the keys. "Why not six?" 

Sehun swallows. "I - "  _ Still have work to do,  _ the teenage him would have said. But. He'd never lied around Zitao. It had been an oath of sorts. "I need to go somewhere for a bit after work."

There's silence for a full three seconds.

Sehun's relieved. 

Zitao understands. Of course he does. "Seven it is," he says, earnest as ever. "Be careful out in this weather. Bring an umbrella with you or something. Don't get sick."

Sehun smiles absently. "Have fun with Baekhyun," is all he replies.

-//-

He doesn't bring an umbrella. He doesn't have one. He pulls the hood as high up over his head as it can go, and sets out with his messenger bag hanging from one shoulder. He thinks he wouldn't even notice if it drops. 

The flower lady's waiting for him in the same place. Just like she has for the past two years. She gives him a soft smile. "I was waiting for you."

He nods. Maybe manages a smile in return. He doesn't say anything. He takes the bouquet that she automatically hands over, and he hands her a couple bills, more than what he should pay. He nods one more time, they exchange smiles, and he waves goodbye. 

Same routine every year. 

The campus is eerily quiet. The lights are on in almost every dorm room, but it's quiet. No raucous shouting, no obnoxious laughter. It's quiet and still, and Sehun's alone with the sound of his footsteps as he makes his way down a familiar path. 

It's empty, as it always is. And save for that one dim streetlamp, it's dark. Still. 

He finds a bench and sits. The bouquet lies on his lap. 

He sighs, the sharp exhale whistling from in between his lips. He's almost scared to say it. But he does. "Jongin," he whispers - into the cold air, into the night sky - and he almost expects a reply. He imagines them the last time they were here. Jongin in a red pea coat, laughing out white gusts of air as he stares up at the sky. 

_ But he isn't real. He wasn't, Sehun.  _

_ It's time to let go.  _

Sehun swallows. "Happy birthday," he murmurs. The rain is still falling steadily. But he doesn't feel it. He's cold, but he doesn't feel the raindrops hitting him. "I - "

He stops short. He thinks his breath catches in his throat. He's not entirely sure.

He swallows, fingers idly toying with the flowers. 

He lets several moments pass. Minutes. Maybe even an hour.

It isn't fair. It isn't fair that he could still  _ see  _ Jongin so clearly when he closes his eyes, could hear his voice over the phone, could feel his warmth if he tries to remember hard enough. 

"Jongin," he tries again, and the name is  _ so so so  _ hard to say and yet so easy on his tongue that he feels like he wants to cry. "I have something to say." 

The rain has stopped. He's drenched, each layer of clothing wet and sticking into his skin.

"It's been two years, Jongin." 

Again, he almost expects an answer. He doesn't get one.

"It's been two years and - " Something comes shooting up his throat - a pained sound, a strangled mix of choking and sobbing. But there are no tears. 

He swallows. It's a habit he'd never gotten rid of. 

"It's been two years and I think it's about time I let you go."

He sighs, the sound whistling in between cold lips. 

"I've missed you for two years," he adds, an all too quiet whisper into the still dark night sky. 

_ Sehun-ah. _

It really is unfair. It's been two years, and it always feels like yesterday since Jongin left.

No, not  _ left.  _ Because he didn't exist in the first place.

He swallows again - and this time, when he opens his mouth again - 

"I've missed you for two  _ fucking  _ years, Jongin," he snaps, and it comes out as a hiss. He's not so sure if he's whispering, or if he's shouting - angry yelling at a sky that will never respond to him. "This isn't me being lovesick. This is me missing _ you.  _ This is me missing every single part that was you and  _ only you.  _ I've missed you during breakfast, during classes, during showers - even when I'm sleeping. I missed you when I drink coffee, when I pass by the sea, if I so much as look at a cup of instant  _ fucking  _ noodles." He breaks off, wheezing and trying to regain his breath. " _.  _ I missed you every single waking moment of my life since then, Jongin. And I hate you and love you for it - because even now, after two years, Kim Jongin, I think I'm still stupidly and pathetically in love with you."

Sehun's breathing is ragged as he stops. But he's not done. 

"And you know what else is stupid? I dream about you a lot. Isn't that so stupid? Because if I told anyone about you, they would tell me I dreamt you up - that you're nothing more but a creation of my own mind." He's hissing, growling, even, but it sounds like sobbing to him. "Then why are you in my dreams? Why is it that, even now, you feel  _ so  _ real and I get this feeling in my stomach and my chest aches and I feel like crying because  _ I miss you so much. _ " 

There aren't tears. He thinks he'd ran out of them a long time ago. 

He opts to laugh instead - the same bitter, empty cacophonous laugh that had irritated Jongin so much. 

Sehun hates that he almost does it  _ because  _ it irritated Jongin so much.

There's so much anger - his ribcage is thumping and his heart is racing and he thinks he's sweating even in the cold. But even despite it all; despite the anger, the frustration, the bitterness - there's a tiny part that wishes he didn't have to do this.

But he does so anyway. 

"It's time I let you go," he whispers. "Do you know how hard this is for me? Because a part of me will always love you. And that's really unfair, Kim Jongin." He can barely hear himself. "You know, nothing about you had ever been fair - not to me, never to me. And still I loved you - a part of me will do for the rest of my life."

He's rambling now, murmuring things under his breath. It's the calm  _ after  _ the storm, and somehow the numb ache in his chest hurts more than the pain in his lungs just seconds ago. 

He'd stood up without realizing it. Bouquet in hand. He walks over to the tree trunk. 

_ It stood strong against everything for eighty-three years, Sehun-ah. That's more than some people live. _

"I've stayed alive for two more years than I would have if you hadn't come along, Kim Jongin, figment of my imagination or not." He doesn't know if he's saying it out loud or not. He doesn't care. "So, thank you. Thank you for everything."

He swallows. One last time.

"But it's time to let go. For my own sake. The dreams and the daydreaming and the waiting and the hoping - it all needs to stop. It's not healthy. Just like everything that you are, Jongin. Not healthy for me. Never healthy for me." 

He lets himself think of Jongin for one more time.

He almost thinks about turning back. 

But - 

_ Don't be ridiculous, Sehun-ah.  _

He chuckles. It's a genuine sound. 

"Even now, I can hear you - I can hear exactly what you'll say to me if I didn't do this, and that's the only thing keeping me going right now, Jongin. Isn't that unfair, too?"

Sehun really, really, really wants to cry. But he thinks the sky had done enough of that for him.  

He kneels down by the trunk, places the bouquet on top of it. A memorial of sorts.

A farewell.

"This is me cutting the cord, Jongin. Doing what I should have done two years ago, but couldn't."

He breathes in. Carefully. 

"I love you, Kim Jongin." 

He breathes out. Slowly.

_ Goodbye, Jongin. _

And as he walks away, Sehun thinks he can almost hear Jongin say goodbye back.

-//-

Zitao takes one look at him and declares; "You look like shit."

Sehun offers a smile. "Is it the wet clothes?"

"Maybe," is the faint reply. "Or maybe because you look like you just attended a funeral."

It's ironic. "Something like that," the younger mutters.

Realization flashes in Zitao's eyes briefly. It's gone as soon as it came, and he doesn't broach the subject further. Sehun is thankful. 

A paper bag gets shoved onto his chest. "I saw it coming though," Tao mutters gruffly. "Get changed. Bathroom in the far back. To your left."

Sehun is  _ extremely  _ thankful. He almost beams at him. 

"I'll order for you. The usual, right?" 

Sehun's not really sure what 'the usual' is, but he nods, closing the bathroom door behind him. Six minutes later and he's out in a fresh shirt and jeans, a little uncomfortably tight on damp skin - but heavensent considering the state his drenched clothes are in. 

Zitao spares him an eye-roll as he sits down. 

"What did you do order for me?"

"A skinny mocha?"

Sehun frowns, bending over to tie his shoelaces. "Why?"

"Isn't that what you always get? A skinny mocha and a banana loaf."

"Really?" Sehun turns his phone in his free hand to check the time. 7:15. "I've never noticed."

Zitao looks genuinely affronted. "How do you not notice - "

"Excuse me? A raspberry lemonade for Tao?"

Sehun freezes, dropping his phone in his haste to look up. The voice is familiar - a rich, deep bass that nags at the back of his mind, rattling memories that should have been buried underneath layers of new ones. 

"Sehun? Are you okay?"

He blinks, his eyes taking a moment to settle on Tao, back with his drink in hand. He hadn't even noticed him stand up to fetch the order. "Yeah, I - I just thought I heard a familiar voice."

"The barista, you mean?" Zitao's staring at him. "He goes to our school."

Sehun looks over at the bar, but the barista had disappeared behind one of the coffee machines, only a small crop of brown hair visible. "I - " He clears his throat. "I think I might have had a class with him." 

Zitao does a little humming sound. "Are you really okay? Do you want me to go get your drink for you?"

He picks up his phone, dusting it off on his jeans with hands that are not quite steady. "No, I'm okay." He stands up, trying and failing to ignore the worried glance Tao gives him. "I'll wait for my coffee over there."

His feet are stable enough as he makes his way over, but his knees feel awfully weak when he finds himself face-to-face with the barista. 

_ Chanyeol. _

He's just as tall, and his smile kind as he looks up at Sehun. "Hi, what can I get you?"

Sehun finds himself stammering. The words feel stuck in his throat. "I - uh, just - I'm waiting - "

"Oh, for your drink?" His grin is the exact same, his eyes as soft. Sehun feels like he's burning; he feels overwhelmed, and there's no way out. "The skinny mocha for Tao?"

Sehun brings a hand over the back of his neck. He pinches the exposed skin, as hard as he can, trying to feel the sting as much as he can.

He can't do this. He can't dream it all over again.

He nods, anyway.

Chanyeol beams, like he's heard the best news of the day. "Your drink's almost done. It would have taken a lot less time - " He raises his tone a little, looking pointedly over his shoulder. " - if one of our workers hadn't messed it up."

" _ Leave  _ me alone, Yeol." 

 

Sehun pinches. Again. Hard. 

He knows that voice. Better than anyone else's.

_ Sehun there? Mr. Oh Sehun? Is he there? _

Chanyeol looks ruffled. "Kai,  _ hurry it up _ , there's a customer waiting." 

"It doesn't  _ feel  _ right - "

Sehun feels a little nauseous.

"Well, maybe if you follow instructions - "

"I  _ am,  _ I just  _ feel  _ like I should be making this coffee differently - ah, wait a second, tell him I'm almost done - "

He kind of wants to pass out.

But Zitao's suddenly there, holding him up. He almost gasps a  _ thank you  _ out loud. He feels like he's floating, all of a sudden, held up by absolutely nothing - one wrong step and he'll fall. 

Down, down, down.

"Sehun?"

He swallows. His vision's swimming a little, but he blinks, three times, and everything comes back with abrupt shocking clarity. "Sorry - I - "

Chanyeol looks apologetic, apologizing at the same time he does. "I'm sorry, I - "

"I'm  _ done, _ jeez." 

Sehun feels like someone had whacked him on the back of the head. His head's aching badly, and he wonders if he's seeing things. But the hand Tao has around his arm says otherwise, and he wants this to be real, he really does. 

_ He  _ hasn't changed at all, Sehun thinks. 

His first instinct is to close his eyes, for three seconds, breathing in through his mouth. 

When he opens him up, he - Jongin - is still there, holding out the drink with a smile -

\- and  _ god,  _ that smile. 

"Skinny mocha for Sehun-ah?"


End file.
